


Rules of Engagement

by GemmaRose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Attempted Murder, Blood Loss, Engagement, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 13:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17101907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Lotor has always known that, in order to legally claim a mate, he would have to do things the traditional way. He just didn’t expect it to be quite this stressful.





	Rules of Engagement

“I could help you dress, if you’re worried about putting everything on right.” Lotor offered.

“Please.” Lance lifted his head from Lotor’s chest, his lips pursing in the most adorable little pout. He was too precious, beautiful even in plain under-armour with his hair mussed every which way. Too beautiful to resist. Lotor bent down, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his mate’s lips.

“Well, first things first,” he murmured, pulling away with a small smile. “We need to get you out of this.” he moved his hands, tracing over the protective fabric down towards Lance’s hips. His lips curled into a smirk as he considered all the ways he could take his mate apart in the process of undressing him. “How would you like me to do that?” he purred, flexing his fingers to press his claws against the fabric. Lance no doubt understood the implicit promise there, the potential for Lotor to rend the suit to shreds with his bare hands without leaving so much as the slightest blemish on his mate’s beautiful skin.

“The bed is covered in clothes, so...” Lance trailed off, and Lotor frowned.

“Damn, forgot about that.” he huffed, and lifted one hand from Lance’s hip to unzip his bodysuit. “I suppose we’ll just have to ruin it later.”

“The clothing or the bed?” Lance questioned playfully.

“Yes.” Lotor smirked, then smirked wider as Lance’s scent shifted subtly, heady notes of arousal seeping into the air between them. He trailed his hand down from the zipper to run a finger between Lance’s legs, and the scent thickened. “Though, you do make it _oh_ so tempting to simply, forego this ceremony entirely.” he lowered his voice to the register that never failed to make Lance shiver. Sure enough, a shudder rippled down his mate’s lean frame, and for a moment Lotor honestly debated postponing tonight’s event. Spending tonight in bed with his mate sounded much more appealing than risking both their lives to officialize what was already fact.

“You’re the Emperor.” Lance shook his head, pulling away from Lotor. “You can’t just no-show.” he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, and Lotor ached to reach out and draw his mate close again but restrained himself. Lance was gathering his composure, if Lotor disrupted him now it would only anger him. “Especially not because of me.” he added softly, and Lotor frowned. He opened his mouth to remind Lance that he was the Emperor, he could do as he pleased and none of his subjects had the right to judge him for it, but his mate forestalled him with a raised hand.

“I know what the generals and nobility and such think of me.” he said firmly. “Staying home from this isn’t worth the fuel it’ll add to their gossip and rumours.”

Lotor grimaced. He’d hoped that those whispers had passed Lance’s notice, that his mate had been spared the knowledge of his subjects’ cruel words. Evidently, they hadn’t affected him, but it still made Lotor’s pride sting to know he’d failed to protect his mate. “You’re right.” he sighed, lifting a hand to cup Lance’s cheek. “But if we’re to make it on time, you really do need to get dressed.”

Lance nodded, and Lotor forced himself to walk over to the bed as his mate stripped off the rest of his undersuit. First, the proper undergarments. He picked up the sleeveless undershirt and matching leggings, and held them out to his mate. Lance wouldn’t stand for Lotor dressing him, he hated being controlled without his consent, but that didn’t mean Lotor couldn’t watch and appreciate.

The muscles in his back flexed as he pulled the undershirt on, and Lotor let his eyes roam freely over his mate’s frame. This was what he would be fighting for, later; this beauty, and the soft heart that laid beneath. The undyed underthings clung to Lance’s body with a fit that was almost sinfully close, and when Lance turned to look at him expectantly Lotor raised a hand and beckoned his mate to sit on the bed beside him. “Come over here.”

Lance complied, and for a tick Lotor weighed his options. He could either let Lance try to dress himself in the ceremonial garb of the Emperor-Consort-to-be, or dress Lance himself and pray his mate didn’t take offence. After a few heartbeats, he picked up the first layer of shirt and gestured for Lance to raise his arms. The stiff, sturdy, protective fabric slid easily into place, and Lance lifted a hand to run his fingers along the back of the collar.

“Are you sure this is on the right way round?” he asked with that adorable concentrating frown of his.

“Absolutely.” Lotor nodded, brushing his fingers along the collar after Lance’s so they teased along the edge of his mate’s mark. Lance shivered, of course, and Lotor very nearly moved his hand to apply proper pressure to the gland at the base of his mate’s neck. Lance was so beautiful, especially half done-up like this, open and vulnerable and trusting. It made Lotor’s chest ache with the sheer strength of love and devotion that welled up to batter against his ribs. “Now, arms up again.” he said, forcing himself to remove his hand from Lance’s neck and reach for the outermost shirt.

“I feel a little silly, letting you dress me like this.” Lance smiled, lifting his arms obediently.

“I’m sure you’d feel sillier if you got tangled in this.” Lotor pointed out, showing his mate the loose weave of straps which made up the back of the shirt.

“Point taken.” Lance muttered as Lotor guided his hands through the arm holes and shimmied the garment down to rest snug around his torso. It fit perfectly, of course, the geometric design of the back straps leading any eye up to Lance’s neck and the scar displayed there. The mark of belonging which meant he was Lotor’s, now and forever. The chain-links which made up the front in traditional red and Lotor’s own emblematic blue sat smooth over his under-layers, and Lotor had to tear his eyes away from his mate to see what was left for him to put on.

“Now, pants.” he picked up the garment and tossed it gently into Lance’s waiting hands. The lightly reinforced fabric was nothing special or difficult, his mate could certainly dress himself. Also, Lotor knew himself well enough to tell they wouldn’t be getting Lance any more dressed than he currently was if Lotor was the one putting pants on him. He had to admit, though, they made Lance’s cute little butt look very nice.

Lotor let out a low whistle, and stood from the edge of the bed to step after Lance. “Now I’m even more tempted to postpone tonight’s ceremony, if only to see you in this again.” he purred, pressing himself against Lance’s back and winding one arm around his mate’s waist. His other hand squeezed gently at Lance’s hip, then began to trail forwards towards his crotch.

“Down, boy.” Lance laughed, the sound sending a soft burst of warm affection through Lotor’s chest. “I thought we had to get ready.”

Lotor let his hand be batted away, though he whined with exaggerated petulance at the refusal. He had to bend over to level his head with Lance’s’, but it was worth it for the smile that flickered across his mate’s face when he kissed Lance gently on the cheek before stepping back. Lance turned towards the mirror, twisting to look himself over, and Lotor bit back another whine at the sight. Lance was so pretty it wasn’t even _close_ to fair. He looked back at the bed, and picked up the last pair of articles waiting atop the sheets.

“This doesn’t seem entirely practical.” Lance commented, and Lotor handed him one of the gloves.

“It’s ceremonial, it’s not really meant to be.” he shrugged. There would hardly be much point to the ceremony if failure had no consequences. Lance pulled on the second glove as soon as Lotor handed it to him, and a small smile stole across his face as he flexed his fingers.

“Do you like them?” Lotor asked, and Lance nodded.

“The noise reminds me of a fair I went to with one of my sisters, when we were kids.” he said, running a finger over the chain links which decorated the backs of his hands.

“You’ll have to tell me about it later.” Lotor smiled, gesturing for his mate to sit on the edge of the bed again. As long as Lance was letting himself be taken care of, Lotor was going to take advantage of it. He knelt before his mate, and lifted one of Lance’s feet with one hand as he grabbed the accompanying boot in the other.

“The vest I can understand, but I know how to put on my own shoes nene.” Lance teased.

“Yes, but I enjoy taking care of you.” Lotor gave his mate a quick smile, then pressed a kiss to the side of his knee. He almost pressed a second kiss higher, but made himself pull away and focus on getting Lance’s boot on. Later, he promised himself. After the ceremony. From the fluctuation in Lance’s scent, he had no doubt his mate was of a like mind.

“Okay.” Lance’s voice was small, quiet, and Lotor got his mate’s other boot on quickly so he could rise to capture Lance’s lips in a kiss. It took nearly all of his restraint to keep it gentle and chaste, to reign in his desire to clutch Lance close and kiss him breathless, to keep his hands from straying down to his mate’s lovely hips. He made himself pull away, and pulled back slightly to rest his forehead against Lance’s.

“I swear, I will always protect you.” he murmured, fingers curling into the edges of the chain link front panel of Lance’s shirt.

“I know.” Lance smiled, and rose up to catch Lotor’s lips in a kiss so quick it barely happened. “Now, don’t we have a ceremony to get to?”

“Indeed we do.” he offered his arm as Lance stepped back, and smiled when his mate’s hand curled lightly around the inside of his bent elbow. The way to the ballroom the ceremony was being held in was familiar, and Lotor held himself tall as they approached the doors. The pair of guards stationed directly outside saluted, and lowered their arms to pull the doors open only at his nod. Having his presence announced was something of a blur, but as soon as the officiant announced the beginning of the Zera Callik he snapped back to hyper-alertness.

The first to approach were his Generals, not a one of them bothering to walk as shadow-silent as Lotor knew they could. They had promised, when he first marked Lance, to get their parts in the ceremony over as quickly as possible. Takeshi looked uncertain, and Lotor pulled Lance to his side with one arm while his other hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Your Majesty.” Acxa bowed, the other four mimicking her. When he straightened up, Takeshi’s eyes went to Lance. He opened his mouth, and Narti stepped on his toes.

“You look beautiful.” he said, instead of whatever other thing had evidently been on the tip of his tongue.

“Thank you, Také.” Lance smiled, and Lotor resisted the urge to keep him from stepping away to talk to the taller human. His Generals would not take the opening presented to them, Lance had been their clade far longer than he’d been Lotor’s mate, and Takeshi would sooner cut his own heart out than bring their jewel to harm.

Zethrid was the first to draw her blade, the ceremonial dagger glowing a pale, fragile pink. Strong enough to strike through Lance’s anachronistic armour, but set to a frequency which would shatter it on impact with any modern protection, leaving no mark visible to the naked eye. The other three generals drew their ceremonial blades as well, lining up a clear strike, and Lotor smoothly stepped between them and Lance as one by one they feinted lunges.

“We’re expected on the dance floor, darling.” he murmured in Lance’s ear as four energy blades broke against his backplate in quick succession.

“I thought you said this was a ceremony, not a ball.” Lance huffed, crossing his arms. “I feel underdressed, being the only one not in armour.”

“Underdressed?” Takeshi raised an eyebrow. “Lance, you’re the best dressed person here.”

“Flatterer.” Lance rolled his eyes, but he smiled as Lotor pulled him away from the other Generals. “Catch you later.” he waved, and Lotor side-stepped behind Lance to catch Takeshi’s half-hearted attempt. Winding his arm around Lance’s waist, he breezed them through the milling officials and out onto the dance floor. They would be expected to dance at least one dance, but knowing Lance and his own weakness to his mate’s requests, Lotor suspected Lance’s back would be bared to the other dancers on the floor for a tock at least.

That was close to ideal, actually. Anyone who wanted to attack Lance would have to come at him from an angle where Lotor could see them, and then he could simply lift his mate and pivot to take the blow himself. It was a tried and true method, one he recalled reading about in reports of his own parents’ Zera Callik. It worked fairly well, too. For nearly a varga, Lotor spun Lance around the dance floor, shielding his mate from attempted stabbings of varying levels of enthusiasm and potential lethality. Lance picked up each new song quickly, humming along to the melodies which repeated and even singing along under his breath when it was a number with words he knew.

Despite the tension and pressure, Lotor was almost enjoying himself. It was hard to stay serious and grim when his mate was pressed against him, smiling like starlight and chattering about Earth music. Lotor made a mental note to arrange for Lance and Takehiko to take another trip to their homeworld in the near future, this time somewhere other than the first Galactic Embassy.

“Something on your mind, nene?” Lance frowned, and Lotor gave his mate a small smile.

“I was thinking you and Takehiko should take another trip to Earth soon.”

Lance made a face, and Lotor chuckled. “Not as ambassadors of the Empire, but simply as soldiers returning home for leave.”

“Only if you come with us.” Lance rested his cheek against Lotor’s breastplate, looking up at him with a hopeful smile. “My moms would love you.”

“Hmm, I suppose I’ll have to meet them before the ceremony, won’t I?” he bent his head, intending to kiss his mate, and saw the incoming blade a tick too late. Shifting his grip, he pinned Lance to his chest with one hand as he curled around him protectively, lashing out to disarm the attacker by catching their blade on his vambrace.

“Lotor!” Lance squirmed in his hold, and he straightened up quickly, sparing the crowd only a glance before returning his attention to his mate. “Are you okay?” he twisted, grabbing Lotor’s free arm and looking at his armour.

“Of course.” Lotor smiled, affection welling hot and bright in his chest. His mate was the most caring person he’d ever met, precious beyond belief. Takeshi had been right to liken him to a jewel.

“Don’t ‘of course’ me.” Lance frowned up at him. “I’ve seen energy blades like that take a man’s arm off!”

“It’s only ceremonial, my love.” Lotor reminded him. “They cannot pierce my armour.”

“Ceremonial?” Lance’s brow furrowed, and Lotor lifted him slightly to pivot and block a lackluster attempted slash. “Lotor, what _exactly_ does a Zera Callik entail?”

Well that was a silly question. Lotor smiled, easily dancing his mate across the floor towards an area full of people who had already made their token attempt. “Did your schooling not teach you this?” he teased gently. Lance gave him a look of pure disbelief.

“We don’t _have_ these ceremonies on Earth.” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

“Then, how do your leaders prove themselves worthy?” he frowned.

“They get _elected_ , oh my-” he cut himself off with a frustrated sound, and looked up at the ceiling beseechingly. “Damn rich aliens.” he muttered under his breath. A smile flickered across his face, and he chuckled to himself as he lowered his head to rest his temple against Lotor’s breastplate. “So, how many people here are gonna try stabbing me?”

“All of them.” Lotor answered simply, holding Lance close. “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Everyone?” Lance’s voice squeaked slightly. “Even Také?”

“The other Generals were the first to break their daggers.” Lotor assured him. “It’s purely ceremonial, Lance. You were in no danger.”

“From _them_.” Lance pressed closer, and Lotor suppressed a whine as he realized Lance’s scent had gone sour with fear.

“Lance, I swear, I will not let any harm come to you, tonight or ever.” he murmured, lifting a hand to run his thumb over the lower edge of Lance’s bared mark. It was a testament to how stressed and frightened his mate was that the contact did nothing to soothe him, and Lotor gritted his teeth. He had to distract Lance, get his mind off of the situation bothering him. He’d much rather simply remove his mate from the source of stress, but until the Zera Callik was complete that was tantamount to political suicide.

“Have you thought about what kind of ceremony you want to have?” he asked, stroking along the lower edge of Lance’s mark again.

“What?”

“The wedding ceremony.” he said, and Lance looked up at him with an incredulous expression.

“Are you just trying to get my mind off the fact that everyone in this room is going to try to kill me tonight?” he asked, suspicion heavy in his tone.

“No.” Lotor easily moved himself between Lance and a pair of daggers. “The end of the Zera Callik _is_ an official declaration of our intent to wed and I, for one, am eager to have you ruling by my side.” he dipped Lance, letting another dagger glance and shatter off his elbow as he pressed a chaste kiss to his mate’s pouting lips. “So, any plans?”

“Not, really?” Lance hedged. “And if this is so important, we should do it the galra way.” he paused, easily flowing through the dance in step with Lotor despite his shorter legs. “What _is_ a galra ceremony like?”

“Long and boring.” he said flippantly, startling a laugh from his mate. Lotor smiled at the sound, and twisted to take a slash on his arm before ducking to kiss Lance’s forehead. “An officiant reads out a list of vows about loyalty and protection and duty and such, and then we swear to them.”

“Sounds a lot like a human wedding.” Lance smiled, tight and thin but genuine beneath that. “But after our vows, we exchange rings.”

“Would you like to do that?” Lotor asked quickly. It wouldn’t be hard to obtain rings, and Lotor would happily wear one under his bodysuit every day if it made his mate happy.

“I’d _like_ to be home in bed right now.” he muttered as Lotor spun to block another slash, taking this one across his back.

“But for the ceremony.” Lotor reminded his mate. “Would you like to exchange rings? There are similar practices in many cultures the Empire has interacted with, none in attendance would question our inclusion of it.”

“Maybe?” Lance said, and Lotor sighed. “Look, it’s a little hard for me to think about mushy stuff when there’s a few dozen people out to shank me with glass daggers.”

“Twenty.” Lotor corrected him reflexively.

“What?” Lance frowned up at him, his lips turning down in an absolutely adorable pout.

“I’ve been keeping count.” he smiled slightly at the dumbstruck look on his mate’s face, and couldn’t resist the urge to lift a hand and cup Lance’s cheek. “There are only twenty ceremonial daggers left in this room, and once they have broken on my armour we can start planning our wedding properly.”

He could just imagine Lance in the ceremonial armour, Imperial red with delicate white detailing, and his own symbol in the center. The pictures of his mother with Zarkon’s old spiked-crescent insignia came to mind, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from letting out a soft happy sound. Lance stopped cold, throwing Lotor off balance, and he blinked down at his mate in utter bewilderment. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I think I need a drink.” Lance said, and Lotor scanned the tables along the edge of the room for potential aggressors. Too many to count, but one of the table did have the rest of his Generals standing around one end... exchanging GAC? Narti seemed to be collecting, and Lotor made a mental note to berate them all later for gambling during an ancient ceremony. For now, though, he would take advantage of the few people in this room he _knew_ to be unarmed. Or at least, unarmed for the purposes of the ceremony.

“Lance!” Takeshi perked up as he spotted them approaching, and Lotor relaxed slightly. Takeshi would keep their mate safe.

“Hi, Také.” Lance grinned, paper thin and dull.

“Enjoying the Zera Callik so far?” Ezor grinned, and Lance let out a whimpery little groan.

Takeshi made to lift his arms, then glanced at Lotor. Lotor nodded, loosening his arm from around Lance’s waist. It was common knowledge that his Generals were clade, some physicality wouldn’t be questioned in the slightest. Takeshi nodded minutely, and shifted his eyes back to Lance as he raised his arms. “C’mere, you look like you could use a hug.”

“Showoff.” Zethrid muttered, and Lotor wished he were standing close enough to step on her foot. Lance had helped them come to an agreement, and loving their mate wasn’t a contest.

“I’ll get you a drink.” he said as Lance stepped towards his human mate, turning away to give them some privacy as Lance undoubtedly sank into Takeshi’s embrace. Lotor gritted his teeth as he walked towards the decanters of fine wine at the other end of the table, only barely refraining from flexing his claws. Lance seeking comfort from Takeshi was nothing new, and the both of them were far past envying each other for how Lance sought their affection. No, his anger was directed inward.

He’d assumed his mate knew what a Zera Callik entailed, and in doing so had engineered a situation where Lance felt threatened and probably at least a little betrayed. Hopefully a glass of wine would settle his nerves some, and Lotor could make it up properly tonight or tomorrow. Probably tomorrow, the blades being unable to pierce his armour did nothing to stop the force of the blows from being transmitted. He was going to be tender for a day or two, just from how many blows he’d taken to the back.

Once the wine had been acquired, he returned to where his Generals had formed a near-organic circle around Lance, Takeshi holding him close with a tenderness that made Lotor’s heart ache and the other four arrayed around them so as to block any knife-first advances an aggressor might try to make. “Here.” he held out one goblet to Lance, who accepted it with a soft smile that had his heart fluttering in his chest.

“And this is for you.” he held the second drink out to Takeshi, who accepted it with a nod and a small smile which was certainly charming, but nowhere near as effective as Lance’s. Lance downed his drink quickly, and Lotor chuckled when his mate stole Takeshi’s half-finished glass to drain that as well.

“Why don’t you take a moment, Emperor.” Acxa said softly, laying a hand on his elbow before he could raise a hand to take his mate back out onto the dance floor. “Takeshi is bodyguard to both of you, at least officially. He can protect Lance for one song.”

“I don’t like it.” Lotor muttered, watching as Lance beamed at Takeshi and followed him out onto the dance floor. “I upset him, I should be making it up to him as much as I can before-” Ezor put a finger to his lips, looking disapproving as Zethrid crossed her arms.

“He needs to process all this.” Acxa said, soft enough to almost be lost in the background noise of the ceremony. “Takeshi needed time as well, and he wasn’t the target.”

“I still can’t believe humans don’t have Zera Callik on their planet.” Zethrid huffed. “How else are they going to know what their leader will sacrifice for the safety of their people?”

“I know!” Lotor exclaimed, throwing his hands up. A clicking noise drew his eye to Narti, and Lotor straightened slightly.

‘‘We have a problem.’’ she signed, and pointed out onto the dance floor, where Lance and Takeshi both seemed to be having trouble following the beat. Takeshi stumbled, nearly taking himself and Lance both down, and Lotor swore under his breath.

“That was faster than I expected.” Ezor remarked, and Lotor spared a moment to glare at her before marching onto the dance floor.

“May I cut in?” He asked rhetorically, pulling Lance’s hands from Takeshi’s and turning his mate to face him.

“Sorry, I think-” Takeshi swayed on his feet, looking slightly ill. “I think I need to sit down.”

“You’re dismissed.” Lotor said curtly. The other Generals would look after Takeshi, though he didn’t doubt that they would tease their clademate about his incredibly low tolerance for galran alcohol. Lance’s, unfortunately, was even lower, and he’d had more than enough to devolve into a giggling mess.

“Heeeeyyy.” Lance drawled, leaning up against him with a too-wide smile. Lotor managed to smile back, or at least stiffly approximate one. He’d been so anxious to help Lance relax, he’d forgotten that his mate’s species had such a delicate constitution in comparison to his own. “Eres guaaapo.” he lifted a hand, and it wavered in the air for a tick before Lotor caught it. Lance beamed, and Lotor moved his mate’s hand to brush a kiss over his knuckles.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, and Lance looked at him with blank incomprehension. Right, disrupted brain function impaired the universal translators compatible with his species. He wracked his brain, struggling to recall if Lance had taught him anything like what he needed to ask. “Con-fío?” he said hesitantly after a moment, and Lance giggled, launching into a stream of slurred words Lotor couldn’t even come close to understanding. He was pretty sure he caught the word confío in the babble, though, and that one meant trust.

He had to get this over with quickly, so he could get Lance back to their room and make sure his mate was properly taken care of. Fortunately, Lance’s current state would make him an exceptionally tempting target, one sure to draw the last of the active participants in to attempt their blows. _Un_ fortunately, that would mean actively using Lance as bait, which he would hate if he were sober. Lotor couldn’t say if he’d hate it more or less than being stuck here in this useless ceremonial armour for another varga, though, and he knew which one he’d prefer.

“I love you.” he murmured, holding Lance close as he danced them into a less densely packed area of the floor. It felt deeply, viscerally wrong to display his mate’s vulnerability to someone other than Takeshi, but Lotor gritted his teeth and fought the startlingly powerful urge to bundle Lance in his arms. There were only twenty blades left for him to take, then the closing part of the ceremony where a light was used to show where he took the blows and Lance was officially made his future husband.

Thankfully, the remaining active participants seemed as eager as he was for this ceremony to be over, and they approached one after another with their ceremonial blades drawn. The first few were genuine attempts, but for the most part their attacks were stale and lacked heart. None of the officers liked Lance, so small and fragile compared to even the weakest Imperial soldier, but few of them were stupid enough to actually try and murder him. Between his reputation from the Arena, the fact that he called five of the most feared Generals clade, and his status as Lotor’s mate, Lance was all but untouchable.

When it came down to the last few attackers, however, Lotor sensed a change. They moved with the flow of the dancers, circling rather than cutting through the crowd, and it made him uneasy. He pulled Lance in close, ignoring the happy-sounding slurred words his mate mumbled into his breastplate in favour of making eye contact with the officers who stood between him and the comfort and safety of his mate. They charged as soon as the song ended, and Lotor lifted Lance with one arm around his waist to pivot and block their attempted strikes from two of them with his free arm.

The third leapt high, evidently aiming to go over his guard, and Lotor twisted to curl over Lance as the last of the ceremonial blades was flung through the air. It shattered against his vambrace, the hilt bouncing over his head a tick later, and he relaxed slightly as the soldier landed. That was all of them, the Zera Callik was over and Lance was unharmed. He’d succeeded.

“¡Cuidado!” Lance yelped, and before Lotor could assure his mate that there was nothing to fear a stabbing, burning pain sliced through his raised arm. Or, more accurately, sliced under his raised arm. He clutched Lance tighter, and spun to face the coward.

“You don’t deserve to be Emperor.” the officer in front of him snarled, lashing out with their blade again. Lotor made to catch it on his forearm, but the assailant abruptly dropped into a crouch and struck at the front of his thigh, just above where the plating of his armour ended. He staggered, and Lance tried to squirm free but he kept his mate close.

“You don’t deserve to be alive, let alone an officer.” Zethrid said from behind him, and Lotor grinned.

“Don’t kill him.” he ordered as his sober Generals surrounded the officer, Narti plucking the blade from his hand disdainfully. “He and his colleagues will stand trial for attempted assassination, and defiance of the sacred traditions of Zera Callik.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Acxa said, snapping a quick salute. “Narti, keep this one under control. Ezor, help me round up his cohorts. Zethrid, get the Emperor to Medical.”

“What?” Lotor frowned, loosening his arms around Lance. “Zethrid, ignore her, I need to be here to complete the Zera Callik.”

“That’s a lot of blood.” Lance whispered, audibly shaken, and Lotor had to forcibly bite back a low whine of distress.

“You can complete the Zera Callik later.” Zethrid frowned, releasing the officer who’d tried to kill him. “But you need to be alive for that.”

“I’m perfectly fi-”

“Lotor.” Lance spoke over him, and he looked to his mate with a questioning noise. “He stabbed you.” Lance lifted a hand, touching the armour just under Lotor’s arm, and his fingers came away purple. He looked down, and blinked at the sight of rather more blood than he’d expected covering his side and the front of his leg.

“Oh.” he looked back at Lance, and lifted a hand to caress his mate’s face as the world began to spin. “I swore to protect you, did I not?”

\---

He wasn’t aware of passing out. One moment he was dizzy but upright, cupping his mate’s cheek, and the next he was waking in a healing pod. His head hurt, as it always did after being made to use a pod, and his armpit and leg both ached slightly where the blade had cut him. The clock on the inside of the lid told him it was early morning, once his eyes managed to focus on it, and he swatted at the button to let himself out with a groan. He wasn’t very hungry, they must’ve given him a transfusion before placing him in the pod, but he was still achingly tired.

The lid popped open with a soft hiss, and Lotor sat up with a groan. The room was empty of medical personnel, unsurprising given the time of night, but after a few bleary ticks his eyes landed on the other two people in the room. A smile pulled at his lips, and as one side of the pod folded down to allow him easy exit he leaned on the other side to observe them for a moment. They seemed to have come here straight from the Zera Callik, Lance still dressed in his beautiful ceremonial armour, and in absence of any chairs they’d simply sat themselves on the floor against the wall.

He had no doubt that Takeshi had _tried_ to convince Lance to come to bed and let a sentry keep watch, but his mate was stubborn to a fault. He was also, apparently, a snorer when he slept sitting up. It was a little bit adorable. Lotor smiled and pushed off of the upright side of the pod, swinging his legs over the opposite edge. As tempting as it was to simply join his mate on the floor, he had no desire to wake up cold and with a sore neck. He linked his fingers, stretching his arms up over his head as he walked over to crouch in front of the two humans who had wound themselves so thoroughly into his life and his heart.

“Wake up.” he said softly, reaching out to touch first Lance’s face, then Takeshi’s. Lance mumbled incoherently, a smile drifting across his lovely face, but Takeshi was the one who opened his eyes.

“Lotor.” the man smiled, adjusting his organic arm behind Lance’s back to support him as he straightened up. “You’re alright.”

“Did you have any doubt?” Lotor smiled, leaning in to rest his forehead against Takeshi’s.

“Never.” A firm, cool hand came up to rest against the back of his head, and for a few ticks they simply stayed there, close in a way Lotor could still scarcely believe himself capable of with someone other than his mate. His mate who was beginning to snore again when they pulled apart, the sound drawing a soft huff of a laugh from Takeshi.

“We should get to bed.” Lotor murmured, unwilling to raise his voice further than necessary.

“Mm, we should.” Takeshi agreed, looking at Lance asleep on his shoulder. “Do you want to carry him?”

“Please.” Lotor shifted to the side, and Takeshi helped shift Lance into his arms. He mumbled a little more, twitching slightly as he was lifted, and Lotor pressed a kiss to his mate’s cheek. “I am here, Lance.” he whispered, pitching his voice down to the register he knew his mate liked best. “Your mates are both here.”

Lance stilled, smiling slightly as Takeshi brushed curly locks back from his forehead and tilted his head to rest on Lotor’s shoulder. “Te amo.” he murmured, and Lotor pressed a kiss to his temple.

“C’mon.” Takeshi placed his prosthetic hand under Lotor’s elbow, supporting him as he stood. “Let’s get to bed.”

“Let’s.” Lotor smiled, shifting slightly so there was space for Takeshi’s fingers to curl into the crook of his elbow. He wasn’t sure it would ever stop being weird, how little it bothered him to share his mate with another, or how easy it was to treat Takeshi as if the ex-spy was his own mate. He shook his head slightly, dismissing the thoughts. He was just tired, his head muddled by a stint in the healing pod. Perhaps tomorrow, after helping Lance nurse his hangover and apologising for indirectly causing it, he could ask his mate about it.


End file.
